The Second Death
by Littix
Summary: Raito never met Ryuk, he had abandoned the Death Note days before, considering it useless. However his memories are intact; what will happen when Kira appears? What will it mean to his relationship with L? LxRaito
1. Spelling problems?

Alright… I'm a bit nervous about posting this, but I had this idea a few days ago and couldn't keep myself from writing it. I dearly hope this idea is original, please tell me if it isn't, because even though it's one of my goals in life, I haven't read yet every Death Note fic there is :p

The story comes from a question I asked myself : it's a rule of the DN that when a person's name is mispelled four times, he can't be killed by the Note - what would have happened if Raito hadn't found Takuo's name's right spelling, and that he didn't know of this rule?

This will be **yaoi,** **LxRaito,** but anyway would you have come to read this if it wasn't? :D

Well, what else?... The original manga series "Death Note" certainly doesn't belong to me, I can't draw to save my life we seriously own Takeshi Ohba and Takeshi Obata for this.

Last, but not least, please **correct me** if you detect _**any**_ mistake, I'm in the difficult situation of being a maniac about mistakes writing in another language than her first. ;) Same if the sentences don't seem like they flow well together, please tell me!

**Prologue: Spelling Problems?**

_Takuo Shibuimaru. Death in a car accident._

Well? Raito thought impatiently as the fated 40 seconds came and went. The loudly boasting man didn't seem to be in any hurry to die, and laughed louder still as the elegantly poised young man thought this, as if to mock him. Raito then blinked, and put his pen down once again. _Of course…_

His mind quickly calculated that there were eleven different combinations of kanji possible to write the man's name and that it would take him approximately 48 seconds to inscribe the deadly words if he kept his current pace. He watched himself do so, in a trance-like state, waiting with baited breath to see it confirmed that this was it, that he had indeed killed someone yesterday, that it was his chance to make a difference, his chance to _change the world_…

But 88 seconds later, the man was still there. Raito clenched his teeth, and his hands gripped the two thin books in his hands. And yet… What had he expected, exactly? There was one chance in four hundred thousand that the man whose name he had written down yesterday could have died of a heart attack at the exact moment he had predicted him to, true, but the the chances of the Death Note's existence were still incomparably lower.

He pursed his lips as he closed the magazine he had used as a decoy for the Note; he had never really believed in coincidences, but it seemed like this time, he wouldn't have a choice.

Already, his sharp mind was berating him for loosing so much time with such a useless and stupid notebook; and why had he even done so, in the beginning? Because he had felt a dark energy coming out of it? Please…

He left the shop, starting to run through his few school assignments in his mind, relieved when he didn't find anything due tomorrow. He felt much too drained to do much more than pretend to read through his lessons this evening, and yet he couldn't have skipped over any assignment. After all, Raito Yagami was never anything less than perfect…

Thrown in a nearby thrash bin, the Death Note quietly suppressed its discontentment. Raito, as observant as he was, never noticed his own features slightly relaxing as he walked away, or his shoulders loosening a bit, leaving behind aching muscles which complained about the unusual tension that had straightened them for 27 hours.

He put the strange experience in the darkest recesses of his mind, where even he never ventured, not forgetting about his temporary folly only because it wasn't like him to forget anything. But the Death Note wasn't to be ignored for long.

Precisely 56 days later, on the 7th of May, Ran Hizorushi died of a heart attack.


	2. Parallels

Hello all!

I can't even begin to describe how overwhelmed I was by the response to the prologue... and how sorry I am that I made you wait for a long time. What's more, this chapter is once again ridiculously short… vv" I'll soon have more time to write, I promise.

Anyway, thousands of thanks go to **unseenstar223, Sonokotao, oztan and swordgirl101** for their wonderful reviews; with a special thanks to **CheeseFaerieXXL**, who is the most tactful corrector I've ever met ;)

Many heartfelt thanks to the ones who put me on various alerts as well, it's a bit intimidating to think people are actually waiting to see what comes next oO

Once again, please point out _**any**_ mistakes!

* * *

Parallels

The woman's hands clenched on the note she held close to her chest, eyes disbelieving and hopeful all at once as she fixed her eyes on her friend's corpse. _God sent such a gift to me – am I then forgiven? I won't betray his trust; oh Kami-sama, I will destroy sinners. And I'll prove to them both that… _Her eyes were suddenly thrown about as she heard a noise, her thoughts and her heartbeat both accelerated. She had lived in the underground for most of her life; more than anyone, she knew how dangerous it was to foolishly display strengths that could have remained a secret. More than anyone, she knew what maelstrom of events this notebook could bring, and how she couldn't trust anyone. She had learnt this the hard way, after all.

Those god-like powers had to be kept hidden, and hiding was what this woman did best.

* * *

His hands clenched on the newspaper which announced in big, black, unforgivable letters: "17th unusual heart attack in two days: a new illness? The scientists confess their ignorance". His face was as calm as ever, but his mind was in turmoil. Other written words kept intruding, printing themselves in his mind with an ink blacker than any ink could ever be in the material realm. _If the case of the death is not specified, the man whose name is written down will die of…_

Even to himself, he couldn't finish the sentence; and yet, he wasn't one to hide away from the truth, no matter how harsh it seemed to be. Absently waving to his mother and shouldering his school bag, Raito firmly took control of his stray thoughts as he walked through the door, automatically checking the mirror as he went.

It was time to plan, and planning was what Raito Yagami did best.

* * *

His finger absently caressed his lips as he contemplated the numerous files surrounding him, organized in a way known to him alone. He very delicately planted his fork in his strawberry shortcake, methodically carving his way into the sugary goodness, until only a perfect circle around where the red fruit remained was left._ Better to leave the best for the end, after all._ His teeth bit cruelly down on the teasing finger as the man seemed to suddenly come to a decision. "Watari, please pack for a few months. Don't forget my sweaters… it can get quite cold in Japan at this time of the year." Then the man, who had been sitting this way for the past seventeen hours, suddenly exploded in a flurry of activity, with slightly jerky, impatient movements, as if his body was betraying him with its slowness now that his choice was made. Footsteps seemed to echo a long time after the man actually left, whispers meant for no one. On the floor, the strawberry lay forgotten on its shaky tower of cake, a hidden testament to the unusual circumstances which had just occurred.

But it was finally time to act, and acting was what L did best.

* * *

Slitted eyes roved over the Earth as the being they belonged to calmly stared at faces, landscapes and buildings, obviously looking for something – or someone – to be precise. She had a task to complete, and nothing to stop her: to even let her know she should be stopped. Thin, long-fingered hands casually slid over the blank notebook she firmly held; future death, pain, and blood, for now resting unknowingly in her palms. Her eyes were as ignorant as the Note; her mission had to be completed, if only because it was the first time in a long time she had felt the delighting hint of _purpose_ singing through her blood, leading her onwards. She knew how much time this could take, but she didn't care in the slightest.

She simply had to be patient, and being patient was what Rem did best.


	3. A fateful week

Once again, I'm sorry I was so long in posting – but I really tried to make it longer this time, and it counts, right ? :D

I'm not sure whether I'm happy or not with this chapter; I'm afraid it's… well, boring, actually. If you don't think so, reassure me, and if you do, could you please tell me what to change in my writing to make it less so ? You'd be a life-saver ;)

I want to thank all of my wonderful reviewers – perhaps 13 is an unlucky number, but I was deliriously happy to get so many :p Guys, you have no idea how much I love you all! Your reviews really made my day, I squealed in glee each and every time I received one, and loudly bragged about it to my sisters who didn't give a damn :D. Tell me if you want me to answer you personally, I didn't dare this time but I would love to ;).

As always, a special thanks to CheeseFaerieXXL, the most wonderful reviewer ever, and the one who convinced me to write even though I was tempted to spend the first two days of my holidays acting like a worm xD

To still unknown readers – don't hesitate to drop a word! Oh, and I'm very curious about what you understood of Kira's plot, so don't hesitate to propose theories, either. I'm not intelligent enough to make it complicated, so you should be able to guess not too far off the mark :)

As always, please tell me if you see any mistakes!

Oh, I almost forgot! I love it when authors post recs, and I decided to put a few myself; tell me if it annoys you! This time I advise you **The Prince**, by _Neverending Odessey_ (my absolute favourite in this fandom, totally incredible, and not getting nearly enough credit), and **Capture**, by _CheeseFaerieXXL_ (and it's not AT ALL because she's my friend - her writing is poignant and her plot awesome).

* * *

_**A fateful week**_

**Monday, May 14****th**

Takeo Shimuira, vice-president of a little company, was an ambitious man, but unlike most ambitious men, he hadn't built his empire on the shaky foundations of pride and fear. He wasn't a genius; he wasn't even street-smart, which could have explained how he succeeded even though he began with nothing. But Takeo knew himself inside and out, and he knew most people, too; a long time ago, he had forfeited his useless arrogance and his hypocritical fake-modesty. He had never underestimated any opponent or possible ally, which had been the mistake of many in the part, as History teaches us.

However, he wasn't without weaknesses – minor ones, which usually didn't matter, but in this case made him the most likely candidate for the hoax she had carefully imagined. He was superstitious. He was devoted to God, as much as she was, perhaps. He was more than a bit cruel, even though he kept this part of his personality carefully hidden. He was ruthless.

She knew all this about her old classmate because she had devoutly studied him seven years ago – both in admiration, because to her distorted vision he was close to perfection, and in revulsion, because his eyes reflected naked souls, and there is nothing worse to a sinner.

Because of this, she also knew he was the only one who would listen to her – listen in the way she wished to be heard.

As she knocked on his door and he called her in, her eyes fell on his shrouded ones. They didn't widen in recognition, not because he had forgotten her and thus didn't realize the significance of her appearance, she knew, but because he wasn't really surprised. A little smirk stretched her mouth, quickly hidden; he was soon going to be very surprised indeed, and although it wasn't her main goal, she had to admit it would be an interesting side bonus.

Then she began talking, and it was easy to make her gaze look adoring and trustful as she talked to him, because that wasn't_ really_ an act; and the lies flowed just as easily from her mouth. She had never considered herself a good actress until it was needed; but this performance could mean the beginning of a new life. Her voice was strong and reverent as she spoke about the dream she was pretending to have had. Her interlocutor was incredulous and surely a bit mocking right now; but his eyes had still lit up in interest, and even though it could as easily be mere curiosity, she knew he was hooked. The only thing she had to do now was to give him evidence.

And that, she reflected as her hand closed on the piece of Death Note in her pocket, wouldn't be a hard task at all.

If this worked – she barely dared to hope, to even think about her possible success – she would be as safe as one could be when in possession of such a murder weapon. Cocooned in the warm reassurance of global indifference, next to a mislead man who… fascinated her, she would slowly have her revenge. She would obtain Perfection.

An unknown Goddess; as illogical as it seemed, it pleased her.

* * *

**Wednesday, May 16****th ****2:37 AM**

_Kurô Otoharada. He's the only one whose death doesn't fit. A minor criminal, with a gap of 59 days between him and the next victim… Japan is also the only country where two deaths have been recorded. Then…We'll begin in Kantou._ His decision made, the furiously thinking man still calculated percentages even as his agile fingers dialed one of the many numbers he knew by heart. "Watari, I've decided to put the plan into action. Please have the video made. Yes… in Japanese first."

* * *

**Wednesday, May 16****th ****17:12 PM**

Exhaustingly rubbing his eyes, but refusing to consider why exactly he hadn't slept well for the past two days, Raito stared at the TV's screen, which currently displayed a program he had absolutely no interest in. Sighing, he extended his hand to the remote controller, ready to switch the offending noise off; and stopped abruptly as the screen changed.

His hands didn't begin to shake when L's name appeared, or when he announced the measures taken against Kira; however he couldn't deny, at least to himself, the relief he suddenly felt. L was a name he associated with his childhood, with the times he spent looking over his father's cases when the man left his office door unlocked, with his ambition of becoming somebody able to _help_. L, even if he would never call it admiration, possessed something he gave away scarcely – his respect. L stood for justice, and calmed the horrible part of his mind that couldn't help but think that it could have been him, that he could have changed the world, that Kira was so terribly _right_… It was easier to breathe, now; sides had been clearly decided, and Raito was on the right one, obviously; weren't he and L two of the finest minds of their time?

Before his thoughts could get anymore arrogant, realization struck and left him frozen; L was giving away his name and face on television. Surely he couldn't have predicted something as crazy as the Death Note, and any second now he would…!

_Of course, perhaps he __**could**__ predict it, finally_. Raito reflected a bit dryly, as L's mechanical voice revealed his scheme. Again, this strange emotion he refused to consider as being more than respect invaded him as L proved single-handedly that Kira existed, that he had a supernatural power, lived in Kantou, and was easy to provoke. It wasn't exactly pleasant; nonetheless, he kept this weird feeling close to his chest, for no other reason than it was a welcome change from the ice that had seemed to decide to reside near his heart these past few days.

Later that night, in spite of the day's events, sleep was as elusive as ever. For once in his life, he detained knowledge that he would be happy to forget. The knowledge that he had killed, and the knowledge of how he had killed. Knowledge that could bring him to prison, knowledge that _would_ lead him to a madhouse. Knowledge that could incommensurably help L. He groaned in his pillow: where had his awfully boring and oh so simple existence gone?

Faced with his first serious dilemma, Raito decided he didn't like it, and could already tell he wasn't going to get any fonder of it anytime soon.

* * *

**Thursday, May 17****th**

"I'm one of the officers assigned to the Kira case" Raito's eyes snapped to his father's as his mind quickly acknowledged what this could mean to him. He let the conversation flow around him as he brought up and discarded ways of letting his father know what he knew, and concluded yet again that he couldn't tell him.

Later tht night, for the first time in years, he broke into his father's computer, shaking his head when confronted with the still pathetic security. He studied what the police knew, and then scowled; in his position, nothing there could help him.

He then opened up many research windows as he decided to pursue a lead he had previously put on hold. Ignoring the much advertised hearts attacks, he quickly began to comb through recent deaths in the Kantou region, trying to see if any could be related, or seemed to make someone's life easier. A few hours later, a pattern hadn't made itself known to him: such research was painstakingly long and, frankly, quite boring. Biting his lips cruelly, he had to quit for the night. Perhaps the first thing he should do was to create something in order to help him investigate.

Blissfully sinking into his mattress, he promised his tensed muscles a nice long exercise this week end; perhaps he could go to the tennis courts and try to find an opponent there.

* * *

**Saturday, May 19****th**** 6:52 AM**

He was once again nibbling on his thumb as he tried to control his disappointment. He had been so sure that Kira would make another mistake; and yet, three days later, no lead had presented itself to him. His hand then left his mouth, but only to distractedly tug at his hair. Well, he would just have to create such an opportunity, he decided. And for the moment, perhaps hitting a few balls would help him think; it was very early, and surely he could go to the nearest courts without putting his safety in danger.

Yet the courts weren't empty; L didn't allow this to faze him as he thanked Watari for the ride, and got out of the car, racquet in hand. Almost unwillingly, he thoroughly detailed the only other person there, out of habit more than real cautiousness. Middle-length brown hair, caramel eyes, a dignified posture. Quite young for the dedication that showing anywhere this early a Saturday showed, reasonably well-off, and meticulous, he easily deducted from what was little more than a passing glance. He also noticed the sure way the almost-man held his racquet, and the fact that even though the young man had obviously been training for a while now, the ball had left a single trace on the wall.

_Well, this could be interesting._


	4. I've been looking for you

Hey everybody!

Huge thanks to: **oztan, Shadow-L-Chan, Hallucinating Brittleness** and **blue ray** for being such amazing, faithful reviewers, and **Hime, Faye317** and **Ellyanah,** for leaving their much appreciated thoughts on chapter 3. Guys, I love you :D

Special thanks to:** Neverending Odyssey**, for her long, in-dept review which left me overjoyed and unable to sleep ;p

As always, the awesome **CheeseFaerieXXL**, for her amazingly nice corrections and for the longest review I've ever seen :)

**Recs today:** The two newest fics by the lovely **ChanceXIII** ("Define Compatible?", one-shot; and "Singing through this silence") and "Revolution", by **OhMyRaito**, which I think have a lot of potential.

_**Chapter 3: I've been looking for you**_

He had dismissed him at first. Untidy hair, bad posture, his racket hanging almost mockingly by his side; the man who had just invaded his space was every thing he refused to accept in another human being. Then he had met piercing black eyes. And then the man had addressed him.

"Game?" he had asked, and it was much more than a word carelessly, rudely thrown about. Because these eyes made it a challenge.

"Sure."

And he had never refused a challenge.

* * *

**0-0**

Curiosity was a feeling L didn't usually succumb to – as was the case with most feelings, actually. So no, he wasn't curious. Just the slightest bit intrigued.

Just as he thought this, the first service exploded in a flurry of movement, speed, and gracefulness, a few feet away from him.

**15-0**

Perhaps intrigued was a bit too weak to describe his feelings.

This time, when the ball came, he was ready. A few steps forwards, a more secure hold on his racquet, which he dropped a bit in order to give an effect to the ball. The boy actually caught it in time, but it went out by a good two inches.

**15-15**

The mahogany eyes in front of him narrowed the slightest bit. "I didn't quite catch your name."

"Call me Ryuuzaki."

"And I'm Raito." No surname? It was quite surprising coming from the obviously well-bred young man, but he certainly couldn't complain, or at least he couldn't without being dubbed the most hypocritical man on Earth (for the second time).

But then the ball came again, still as swift, still as deadly, and he had no time to think about names. He returned it, careful to send it to the opposite side, near the back line. Their first real exchange had finally begun. And it was every thing L could have hoped for.

* * *

Two hours. Two freaking hours. Could a one-set tennis match realistically last two hours? _Apparently yes. _They had entered tie-break when Raito had eventually managed to make the score 6 games to 5; but it had been next to impossible to lead by two points; thus the two hours.

This game had been exactly what Raito needed, and much more than he had hoped for when he had begun to warm up. He felt sweaty, and knew his muscles were going to give him hell tomorrow, but right at this moment, he was energized and was ready to face anything, knowing he would succeed anyway. He sighed with relief – he had almost begun to miss the feeling.

Inevitably, his thoughts turned to the man now sitting next to him on the court's only bench, who had a few minutes ago made a brief phone call – to his driver, he supposed, not having missed the beautiful car who had parked near the court just before the man arrived. _Ryuuzaki_. It was ridiculous really, almost inconceivable, considering Raito had arrived first in the Nationals, but this slouch of a man had given him his best match until now. And he wasn't even out of breath, he noticed a bit sourly. He felt like he had to give some sort of acknowledgement to his companion, so he cleared nonchalantly his throat in order to make it easier for the rarely said words to leave the lips they were hiding behind.

"Ryuuzaki-san, thank you. It was a nice match." To test a theory he had, he thrust his hand forward confidently, naturally.

L had left England three days ago, so he returned the gesture without thinking about it – in his usual way, touching only barely the palm of the person in front of him, his middle finger pressing on the young man's wrist and thus making it impossible for anyone to crush the bones in his fingers. After all, paranoia was an acquired taste.

"Not at all, Raito-san. I believe I benefited as much from this exercise as you did. It can be difficult to find a worthy opponent."

All the triumph Raito had felt when he had managed to confirm that the man was indeed a foreigner faded away. _Exercise_? The man was insulting, and he obviously knew it; not even the complementary words thoughtlessly thrown after the slight made it any better. He didn't let his dissatisfaction show, but when he spoke again; his voice had lost the almost relaxed tone he had previously used.

"Indeed; perhaps we can meet again."

"I'm not a creature of habit – I'm not sure this could become something regular."

This time Raito's teeth clenched: this rebuttal hit harder he thought it could, because it didn't affect his emotional state in the slightest, but was aimed for his pride. Still, he couldn't lose the game this way, no matter that he wasn't even sure which game they were playing.

"Then it will be irregular." The eyes the man had turned away looked at him with a new light in them, but he wasn't sure why. Of course, this ignorance only infuriated him more.

"Saturdays on even weeks, Sundays on uneven ones. Eight o'clock on even months, seven on uneven ones."

There were so many things wrong with this sentence he didn't know what ought to make him angrier first. The schedule proposed was ridiculously complicated; in fact, he almost wanted to agree calmly, just in order to show that he wasn't fazed in the slightest bit by the rapidly fired words and could perfectly understand and remember it; but then he wondered if _this _wasn't precisely Ryuuzaki's strategy to manipulate him into giving an agreement – he was quickly learning to expect the unexpected from the strange man. Then there was the fact that Ryuuzaki assumed that Raito was on his back and call, ready to accept any timetable to play with him again. Finally, and he hated to admit it, what really annoyed him was that, in this at least, Ryuuzaki was absolutely right – he knew the following weeks wouldn't get any easier, and it wouldn't be smart to refuse such a convenient outlet for his stress and anger, no matter how annoying the man was.

"Very well. What should I do if something unexpected occurs? I wouldn't want to make you wait." _And_ _you shouldn't either_ was left unsaid.

They exchanged phone numbers, Ryuuzaki giving him access to a phone easily destroyed if anything happened, Raito giving a random friend's number he had memorized almost by mistake.

The two men parted on a nod.

* * *

"He should be deleted… him as well… worthless beings." She looked at his companion carefully as she wrote down on her Note; his tone has just darkened, indicating that a new crisis was approaching. She had never expected this, but it seemed that since she had come to talk to him he had let a part of his personality he usually kept well-hidden free. He often cut through his "Just Judgments", as he liked to call their sessions with pride dripping from his voice and the capitalization obvious, in order to rant about their rotten world.

He had endorsed the title of Punisher like one would a coat, much more easily than she could ever have had; it fit him, in a sense, because had he pursued a career in Law, he wouldn't have become a defence attorney, but a prosecutor. Justice's blind eyes (sometimes, more often recently, he would say _L's eyes_) were no match for his hardened ones, who had _seen_ men, he considered.

Once again, she was swept away by this ugly and overwhelming feeling which blocked her throat and made her hands shake, and that she absolutely refused to call fear.


	5. As we meet again

I can't express how sorry I am for the horrible delay; I think that a lot of you will be annoyed if I start justifying myself there, but I'm totally willing to explain why I took so long, so if you want me to, just tell me so in a message. :)

**Thanks a thousand times** to my reviewers, you mean the world to me – I even received three reviews only a week ago and it was really a great feeling, which encouraged me to at least finish this chapter. So, even if you read this an eternity from now, don't think that your review won't be read or will be unappreciated!

As always, a special thanks to CheeseFaerieXXL, the awesomest awesome person in the world, and to Neverending Odessey, for her long and interesting review.

* * *

_**As we meet again**_

"Isn't it time yet?" Takeo was in one of his better moods, she remarked absently, and his tone was courteous, like always when he addressed her. Still, the question almost made her flinch, not because she hadn't expected it, but instead because she had feared the time it would come since she had first talked to him.

"Yes Shimuira-san. It has been a symbolic eighteen days since your powers came to life; it is time to get the reward you deserve."

"I see." He didn't manage to perfectly hide his excitement, but then who could have? "However…" She tensed, inevitably. "I think we may be in need of some…exterior help." All the repercussions this sentence held made her pale; but she had known, the second Ran died, that nothing would be easy about this. And her cold declarations to her too-present ghosts still stood.

"Of course, Shimuira-san." She didn't bow, because surely they were equals. And anyway, her determination – or was it her pride? made her neck feel much too stiff.

* * *

Raito sighed and watched as his breath fogged in front of him. He didn't wear gloves, but his hands were warm as he dragged them over his face, slowly. As he went to put them back into his pockets, his hands caught a piece of paper. _What?_ He got it out, and a large piece of the Death Note met his eyes. _Of course…How could I have forgotten?_ Still berating himself, he contemplated the seemingly innocent piece of paper, possibilities making themselves clear to him. For a moment his head spun as plans were formed and discarded – Kira wasn't efficient enough, that was a given, and he could do such a better job ; L would never suspect him, and wouldn't it be interesting to see how long the detective and him could fight? Perhaps… and on and on, until his thoughts spiralled and became unbearable…

Until he woke up.

_Wha-?_ Automatically, irresistibly, his eyes were drawn to his watch, but it was much too dark to see anything, so he rolled over and observed with a sigh the dully glowing numbers of his numeric clock. 3:17 A.M., they serenely proclaimed. Just _great. _

It was his third night disturbed by nightmares this week, and he remembered more than a bit wistfully the solid ten hours of sleep he had gotten last Saturday night, even as he categorically refused to ponder exactly _why_ he had been tired enough to sleep peacefully. Just as he refused to admit that the slight clenching sensation in his stomach when he thought about next Sunday was anything more than nausea due to lack of sleep.

* * *

Not as far away as they both thought, a certain black-haired detective wasn't as reluctant to admit his feelings as Raito, who, as a male teenager, had perfected it to an art form. However, he wasn't used to being perfectly honest either – be it with himself or with others – and he still had slight difficulties to admit how much he looked forward to another tennis match. It was quite absurd really – that such an _ordinary_ thing should take his attention from the quite extraordinary Kira case.

_Speaking of which…_He had been waiting for the computer to finish processing the data it had been given, and it seemed to have done so while he was absorbed in his thoughts, which made him frown a bit. What did it mean when he got interested enough in such an unimportant matter that he wouldn't notice that? Stifling a sigh, he used his considerable willpower to concentrate solely on the case, already beginning to quickly propose and discard complicated theories – whispers of possibilities still echoing in his ears.

* * *

They wore about the same clothes – and of course, the racquets were the same. Perhaps Raito did look a bit tired, maybe Ryuuzaki was standing slightly straighter than usual; but they were essentially the same as last Saturday.

And yet the atmosphere couldn't have been more different.

This wasn't the bored indifference of two genii who had never gotten a worthy opponent and certainly didn't expect the other to be the one; it wasn't the appraisal they had given each other once the first ball had been played. It wasn't even the exhilaration that had gotten a hold of them once it had become obvious that their adversary's skill was comparable to theirs. No, this atmosphere was one of tension and of rivalry, and it made the air almost heavy; a heaviness which made it difficult to breathe and yet made each breath a heady rush of adrenaline and anticipation.

It was unheard of for each of the secluded men. It smelt of unusual, of danger; it was irresistible. Raito couldn't suppress a smirk. Ryuuzaki's lips twitched upwards.

This time they didn't even exchange a word before the tennis ball began to fly.

The few first points were a violent ballet, racquets swung with unsuppressed force and glee; however, their movements became slowly more graceful, and soon they were dancing together, and the net wasn't an obstacle any longer, but a symbol of their joining.

_Joining? _Wondered Raito, startled. _Where did that come from?_ The word was clearly preposterous, and yet rang true. Shaking his head in order to clear it, he concentrated again as Ryuuzaki ruthlessly took advantage of his slight distraction and scored with a perfect ace. But even as he went to get into position, a slight cough stopped him.

"I do believe I won, Raito-san."

Quickly counting, Raito frowned as he realized that the man was perfectly right. Refusing to look sheepish, he dropped his racquet and was surprised at the wave of pure _discontentment _that flowed through him at the though that it was already over – and the fact that he had lost certainly didn't help. The match had been shorter than last time, not going into tie-break as Ryuuzaki had won 6-4, and it didn't seem enough to him.

Raito had already opened his mouth to ask for a rematch when it hit him just how _needy_ his own thoughts sounded, and how unlike him it was to crave the companionship of others, even if the "other" in question was the damn best tennis player he had ever seen. Such a realization made his lips close quickly from where they had parted to deliver the undignified words. Ryuuzaki had no such qualms.

As Raito realized when the ball exploded at his feet.

Well, not literally. Resisting the want to declare it unfair, resisting even more firmly the want to smile, Raito raised his racquet once again.

* * *

It seemed somehow fitting to end it on a tie, reflected Ryuuzaki as he sat down, slightly out of breath. His earlier victory had evened the score between them, and it would have felt wrong for one of them to go back home feeling as if he had lost something. Sighing as he suddenly realized that the pause was over, he distractedly pushed the button that would allow Watari to know he was finished here.

This time, as he left, no goodbyes were exchanged; it simply seemed superfluous.

* * *

Above Hokkaido, a grinning Shinigami suddenly paused. The pull that had guided him until then, similar to an unpleasant itch against his mind, had steadily been growing stronger, so he was reasonably sure that he wasn't far from his Note; and yet, now that he was closer, it seemed…unnatural. It was difficult to explain – if he had to, he'd say that the rope tying him to his Note had just been divided. _Has the owner already separated from his Note? Hyuk hyuk… Guess I'll soon find out, eh?_

As he followed his link to the Death Note – the stronger of the two – Ryuk laughed._ Humans… seem to be fascinating creatures._


End file.
